


amicable numbers

by CoraClavia



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, F/M, Sparky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-12-07 02:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11614452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraClavia/pseuds/CoraClavia
Summary: Even in math, there's such a thing as a soulmate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a pattern emerging: I tell Polly Lynn “Oh, wouldn’t it be funny if this thing happened in a fic?” and then somehow she mentally tricks me into writing that thing. I suspect she has a me-shaped voodoo doll chained to a laptop.

_South Glen Academy, est. 1857  
South Glen, VA_

* * *

  
“Hey, Ronon.” John slid into a chair beside the athletic director. “Any word on the new dean?”

“Nothing. Caldwell’s playing it close to the vest, but I’m assuming he’s announcing today.” Ronon slouched back in the stiff, uncomfortable lecture hall chair. “Hope they found someone good.”

“God knows he interviewed enough candidates.” John loosened his tie and unbuttoned his top button. “If we’re lucky, this’ll be the world’s shortest meeting. ‘Hi. Here’s the dean. Have a nice day.’”

“Fingers crossed, man.”

Colonel Caldwell strode past them, down to the podium at the front of the lecture hall. The academy president was a tall, clean-cut man, brisk and slightly grumpy and eternally starched and pressed. 

Ronon elbowed John in the side. “Look. He’s almost smiling. Must be good news.”

“Maybe they figured out how to surgically remove the rod from his ass,” John mumbled.

Ronon snorted loudly, drawing confused looks from the other faculty around them. John sighed, craning his neck to see an unfamiliar head up ahead of them, in the front row. “Wait. Who’s that?”

Ronon shrugged. “New dean, maybe? I didn’t see her come in.”

For now, all he could ascertain was _female_ and _brunette_ , so John settled back in his chair. May as well get comfortable.

“All right.” Caldwell glanced at his watch. “It’s 1600 hours, so let’s -”

The heavy wooden door at the back of the hall flew open with a bang.

“Sorry! Sorry, everyone.”

Daniel Jackson - brilliant history teacher, avid scholar, and walking mess - shuffled in, arms full of books and folders, and collapsed in the closest unoccupied chair. Caldwell let out a frustrated noise, but otherwise ignored it. John hid a grin. Daniel lived in a world of his own. Long, long ago. Possibly even a galaxy far, far away.

“As I was saying.” Caldwell cleared his throat. “Now that we’re all here, I’d like to introduce our newest staff member. This is our new academic dean, Dr. Elizabeth Weir. Dr. Weir comes to us from St. George College out in Colorado, and we’re very lucky to have her. Welcome to South Glen Academy, Doctor.”

John grudgingly joined the polite smattering of applause as Dr. Weir stepped to the podium, finally giving him more of a view than the back of her head. She wore a simple grey skirt and soft, silky red blouse, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

She was gorgeous in an understated way, the kind of woman who carried her authority easily. Curly dark hair, long legs. Bright eyes, a wide smile.

“Thank you, Colonel,” she replied graciously. “It’s an honor to be here, at this prestigious academy. I look forward to working with all of you.”

John was half-expecting a standard administrative monologue, but she surprised him - she smiled, shook Caldwell’s hand, and returned to her seat.

He joined the applause, leaning over to whisper to Ronon, “Shortest damn speech I’ve ever heard.”

Ronon nodded. “She’s my new favorite person.”

“No kidding.”

* * *

Dr. Elizabeth Weir was an efficient woman; it was less than twenty-four hours later that John got called into her office for a budget meeting.

Like the rest of the administrative offices, hers was a beautiful, spacious room in one of the oldest buildings on campus: tall windows, hardwood floors, dark wood paneling. The door was open, and he looked in to find her organizing the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves across from her desk. She was stretched up on her toes, balancing somewhat precariously as she maneuvered a heavy volume into place.

He tapped on the doorframe. “Dr. Weir?”

“Mr. Sheppard. Please, come in.”

She brushed her hands on her skirt, stepping forward to offer a firm handshake. “Thank you for coming. Have a seat.”

John settled in the chair across from her desk as she pulled out the math department budget sheets, paging through the brief report.

“Your budget is impeccable.” She waved a hand at the chart. “I suppose that’s not surprising, coming from the math department.”

“I’m pretty good at adding.”

He should probably tone down the smartass attitude - she _was_ his boss, and even if that weren’t an issue, she was hot - but to her credit she actually grinned, a real smile that brightened her face. “That’s good to hear.”

“Thank you.”

John decided then and there that he was fairly certain he liked her. She didn’t mind his stupid sense of humor _and_ she appreciated a well-written budget.

After a moment, she set her pen aside and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “So is there anything your department needs? Any long-term wish list?”

“Really?”

Her smile widened. “Really.”

Unexpected.

“Uh. Well. If you’re asking -” he shifted in his chair - “it’d be great if we could get smartboards.”

“Smartboards?”

“Interactive whiteboards. They have touch sensors, so you can interface them with a computer and run software. They’ve got great application potential, particularly in upper-level classes. You can do a lot with graphing functions, which would be helpful in calculus.”

“Mmhmm.” She scribbled something down at the bottom of his budget paperwork. “Is there a particular model you’re looking for?”

He shrugged. “There are a few types that’d work. I can - put together a cost comparison, if that’d help?”

“That would be great.” She nodded, jotting down a few more things. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll keep this in mind while we compile the budget.”

“Right.” He paused. “Thank you.”

* * *

“I like the new dean,” Rodney announced, flopping into the seat across from John and digging into his lunch.

John blinked. “Hello to you too, Rodney.”

“Hi. She’s great. Very smart. And she seems to appreciate the finer points of physics, you know? It really is the queen of the sciences.”

“After math, of course,” John assured him. “Physics is just a less perfect version of math.”

Rodney sputtered. “What are you - that is _absurd_. Physics is the pinnacle of scientific inquiry.”

“Physics is what math does on its off days.”

“That is a _lie_.” Rodney glared at him. “You’re just trying to irk me, aren’t you?”

“It seems to be working.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

A few days later, John was just about to tell his Calculus I class to open their textbooks when the door opened and his new dean walked in. “Good morning, Mr. Sheppard.”

“Morning, Dr. Weir.” John gestured to her. “Class, this is Dr. Elizabeth Weir, our new academic dean.”

The high schoolers obediently chorused  _ Good morning, ma’am _ as Dr. Weir settled herself in a chair at the back of class. 

“Feel free to ignore me,” she told him, crossing her legs neatly. “I’m just here to observe.”

It was trig review day, so by the end of class, the whiteboard was covered in proofs

“Okay. Review everything in chapter two, because it’s all gonna be on the test.” The class erupted in groans, and John shrugged. “Complain all you want. Won’t change a thing.”

A hand went up, and he nodded. “Yes, Cadman?”

“Yes, sir,” the redheaded girl chirped, beaming. “Is there any possibility we could bribe you to ease up on that test, sir?”

John stole a glance back at Dr. Weir as the class laughed. She was watching with obvious amusement, her eyes dancing as she sat back and folded her arms.

“So, Mr. Sheppard?” She spoke for the first time since she’d come in, drawing curious looks from the class. “Is there a going rate for math teachers these days?”

He stared at her - she did  _ not _ seem like the type to give him shit in front of his students - and she just raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.

Not what he’d expected. 

“No dice,” he replied. “I enjoy their pain too much.” 

* * *

South Glen sat on sprawling grounds; it was one of Virginia’s oldest secondary schools, and the land, and the main building, dated back to before the Civil War. In warmer weather, plenty of people enjoyed the trails across campus, particularly the coastal path that wound across the bluffs. But as soon as the temperatures started to plummet in fall, when the winds turned biting and started to scour, most people gave up on it. John preferred the solitude. 

On one particularly blustery afternoon, he found himself on a bench next to the path, braced against the wind. He took in a long breath, turning up the collar of his jacket.  

The sound of footsteps nearby drew his attention, and he looked back to find Elizabeth Weir on the path, looking startled to see him.

“Dr. Weir.” He nodded. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she breathed, her voice soft. “I’m sorry, I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“Not at all.” He waved a hand at the Chesapeake Bay in front of them. “Plenty of water. I can share.”

It wasn’t particularly funny, but she smiled at him anyway, amusement dancing in her eyes. Her smile was dazzling, and it took a moment for him to look away.

She leaned her wrists on the bench, taking in a deep breath. “You know, I don’t think I could ever get tired of this.”

“It’s a pretty great view.”

“Do you come out here often?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “When I need to clear my head. Or stretch my legs.”

“I can see why you like it.”

“You’re welcome to sit,” he offered. “As long as you’re not hurrying off.”

Dr. Weir tilted her head, clearly considering the invitation, and he wondered if she was looking for a polite way to say  _ No _ , but she nodded. “Thanks.”

She settled beside him, just far away enough not to touch, tucking her hands into the pockets of her red wool coat with a shiver. “I should have brought gloves.”

“It does get windy.” John eyed the woman beside him, who was watching the vast stretch of shimmering water before them with wide eyes. “So how’s the first month turning out?” 

“Good. Busy.” She shook her head, smiling wryly. “There’s just - a lot to take in, you know?”

John nodded. “If you don’t mind my asking - what brought you here? You were out west before, right?”

“Yes, just outside Colorado Springs.”

“So how’d you end up at South Glen?”

“Caldwell has friends at the Air Force Academy; I knew some of them, and they recommended me to him when this position came open. Normally I wouldn’t jump ship during the academic year, but in this case, I decided to take the risk.”

“Something at St. George?” he prompted.

“When I first got there four years ago, the faculty and administration were a mess. Constantly fighting with each other, department heads at each other’s throats over money and tenure spots, development officers who didn’t know how to coordinate with the academic programs. It’s a miracle they were anywhere  _ near _ financially solvent.”

“So what happened?”

“It got worse, and worse, and then last summer it hit the fan, so to speak.” Elizabeth smiled wryly, and he wondered just how literal that choice of words was. “We were probably months away from closing, but after some very -  _ very _ \- unpleasant meetings, we finally got people on the same page. The faculty voted to cut three programs of study, which wasn’t a fun compromise, but a necessary one.” She shook her head. “Our study abroad programs were hemorrhaging money, so we started partnering with the state university system, which meant our students had more programs to choose from, it cost less, and they got transfer credit.”

“Sounds like you got a lot done.”

“We did.” 

John smiled to himself.  _ We _ . She didn’t seem to realize she was deflecting. “So what happened?”

“I requested that the student life division be held to a similar standard of budget cuts. Given how many administrators in their division were redundant, and how many small programs they ran that could easily be combined, I thought it was only fair. If I had to gut academics, why shouldn’t they have to trim down, too?”

“That sounds pretty reasonable,” John offered.

“Well, President Wallace and I fundamentally disagreed on that point. And when the board of trustees voted in my favor -” she smiled a little sadly - “I saw the writing on the wall. I won the battle - student life was mandated to cut their budget as much as I’d cut mine - but I knew I was losing the war. No one wanted me there anymore.”

“No one?” 

“No one likes the person who cuts budgets. People lost their jobs because of me. And given that I had the president, many of the faculty, the provost of student life, and a fair number of administrators pushing against me -” she paused, and John watched as she mentally searched for the right words - “my ability to do my job was quickly diminishing.”

“So you...jumped out of a moving car?”

“I did what I could. It was the right time to go. Time for a fresh start.”

He had the distinct impression that there was something personal tucked between the details of that story, something she was very carefully not saying. She left a college for a high school, albeit a competitive one. Somewhere in there was a missing explanation. 

But clueless as he sometimes felt, he had a pretty good feeling it was better not to ask.

Instead, he aimed for a safer target. “Did you like Colorado?”

She nodded, smiling fondly. “It was beautiful. I still miss the mountains.”

“You’ll get used to the water.”

She beamed at him, her eyes warm. “I think you’re right.”

There was a long moment of silence, but it was a gentle, easy silence, just the breeze and the waves and the birds. John couldn’t help but marvel - someone he knew so little, but the quiet felt as comfortable as he could imagine.

It occurred to him that maybe he could say something polite. She’d gotten all but thrown out of St. George; the least he could do was be nice. 

“I guess I’m late on this, but - welcome to South Glen Academy, Dr. Weir.”

“Elizabeth.” He looked up, confused, and she tried to explain herself. “My name. I mean -” she shook her head, her nose wrinkled in frustration, and it was so bizarrely cute that he couldn’t look away - “call me Elizabeth?”

John grinned broadly. Refreshing to know someone so polished could still occasionally put her foot in her mouth. “As long as you call me John.”

“Deal.” She stood, eyeing her watch. “I should go. I -” she smiled. “Thanks for listening. And thanks for sharing the view.”

“Anytime.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Good morning, Dr. Weir.”

“Good morning.” Elizabeth hastened to catch up with the swim coach - Teyla, she remembered, though she couldn’t quite recall the woman’s last name - who was patiently holding the front door open for her. “Thank you, Teyla.”

“Of course.” Teyla watched, smiling, as Elizabeth managed to shift her bag on her shoulder without dropping her travel mug. “Coffee, I assume?”

“Always.”

“Addict?”

Elizabeth laughed. “I prefer ‘devotee.’” 

* * *

A few evenings later, John scrawled a grade on the last geometry test and pushed the stack of papers into his mailbox with a relish.  _ There _ . Finally done.

A glance at his watch told him it was time to get going, so John grabbed his bag, tossed his tie in it, and left the workroom. The hallway was deserted except for the janitor’s cart.

But when he turned the corner, John discovered he wasn’t alone, after all. Light poured into the dim hallway from Elizabeth’s office, and a glance out the window showed her car still sitting in the parking lot.

Minutes ago he couldn’t get out of the building fast enough, but John hesitated, shifting his shoulder bag to his other shoulder. Huh. Not what he'd expected.

He knocked on the door and leaned in to see her sitting at her desk, poring over papers, a pen tucked behind her ear. 

“Hi.”

Elizabeth looked up, startled. Her face melted into a weary smile. “Hi. I didn’t realize anyone was still here.”

“You look like you could use a break.”

Elizabeth let out a rueful laugh. “You might be right. I lose track of time, you know?”

“Yeah, easy to do.” He hesitated, but she looked so drained, he decided to see if she needed an excuse to escape. “You know, there’s a bar in town called Professor Jack’s. They have trivia contests on Wednesdays - I’m heading there now, meeting some other teachers. Food’s good, too. You’re welcome to join us.”

He wasn’t sure - she didn’t really seem like the sports bar type - but her eyes brightened.

“I’d like that.”

* * *

Professor Jack’s was comfortably crowded, as usual, by the time John got there. Trivia started at eight thirty, and answer sheets were already available on the bar. 

“Hey, Jack.”

“Sheppard.” The owner himself, ‘Professor’ Jack O’Neill, was setting up the sound system. He swore at it, plugged something in differently, and tapped the microphone tentatively. “There! Damn thing.”

Ronon, Rodney, and Teyla were already parked at the corner booth, halfway through their food. “Hey, guys.” John slid in on the edge. “Hey, budge over, okay?”

Ronon wrinkled his nose. “Someone else coming, or you just feeling greedy?”

“Yeah. Elizabeth, the new dean. I ran into her on my way out.”

Teyla raised her beer. “Another woman? Wild.”

The door opened, and Elizabeth stepped in, looking around. John waved, catching her attention, and she beamed. 

He turned back to his colleagues. “Be nice, Rodney.”

“What?” Rodney sputtered. “I’m always nice. Besides, I like her. Unlike you, she respects the sanctity of physics.”

“Hi, everyone.” Elizabeth arrived at their booth smiling, and John immediately shoved Ronon to make room as she slid in beside him. “Thanks for letting me join you.”

“Hope you like history.” Ronon grinned. “We’re kinda stacked on science. Teyla’s good with movies and music. And Shep knows a bunch of random shit.”

“History’s probably one of my strongest subjects,” Elizabeth told him. “Hopefully that means I can stay?”

He shrugged. “Can’t hurt.”

“We need a new name,” Rodney pointed out between bites of his fries. “Any ideas?”

“What was your old name?” Elizabeth asked. 

“Three Guys and Teyla.” John laughed at the face she made. “It wasn’t our best effort. But we just kind of stuck with it. Everyone else has better names.”

“Well?” Rodney took a long drink from his beer. “Anyone? - and if you say Tequila Mockingbird, you're kicked out.”

Elizabeth thought for a moment, then smiled. “Let The Wookiee Win.”

Rodney gaped. “You’re my new hero.”

* * *

At the end of the first round, Jack squinted at the score sheets, tallying up points, and finally grabbed the microphone again. “All right, kids. Here we go.”

Let The Wookiee Win stood in third place. The two winning groups were each over fifteen points ahead, but all in all, they weren’t doing too poorly. John had played much worse rounds. 

“Our final question will be in the category of -” Jack checked his notes - “Tennis. That’s right. Tennis. Bring your wagers up here, folks. Anything up to twenty points. Question comes after I get your wagers.”

John turned back to his table. “So what do we want to wager?”

“Wait.” Elizabeth held up her hand. “Wait. Look at them.”

The two winning teams were huddled around their respective tables, faces serious. Occasionally one of them glanced over at the other team.

John drained the last of his beer. “What do you think? We’re pretty far behind.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, her eyes sparkling. “Do you know anything about tennis?”

John shrugged. “Not really. You guys?” Teyla and Rodney shook their heads, and even Ronon just waved his hand. 

“Not my sport, man.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth twirled the pen in her hand. “So this isn’t our strongest category. Those teams are going to try to out-wager each other. And if either of them gets it right, we’re out of luck anyway. But if they both get it wrong, they take themselves out.”

Ronon nodded slowly. “So we bet nothing.”

“I like it,” Teyla said. “Strategic.”

Everyone looked at John, who had become the unofficial team captain ever since they’d started playing trivia, and he nodded. “Let’s do it.” Nothing to lose, really.

Elizabeth scrawled a zero on the paper, folded it neatly, and handed it over. “Here’s hoping.”

* * *

When Jack presented them with the first-place gift certificate, he clapped Rodney hard on the shoulder. “Good job, kids. Looks like you finally brought in an expert to help.”

Rodney winced, rubbing his shoulder. “That hardly seemed necessary.”

“Ah, buck up, McKay.” Jack grinned. “So who’s gonna introduce me to your new ringer?”

“Jack O’Neill,” Teyla waved a hand at him, “proprietor of this fine bar, meet Elizabeth Weir. She works at the school with us.”

“Nice to meet you. It’s about damn time this team got some class,” he assured her with a hearty handshake. “And I like the new team name. Your old one sucked.”

Jack wandered off, and John held up a hand. “I think we can all agree the prize goes to our MVP for the evening. Doctor, it’s all yours.”

Ronon and Teyla raised their glasses; Rodney’s was already empty, but he waved a hand in solidarity as John handed Elizabeth the envelope. “Hear, hear.”

“Yep.” Ronon took a long swig of his beer. “I’ve never been so proud to know nothing about tennis.”

* * *

Ronon led early morning football drills, Teyla had early swim team practice, and Rodney could only handle so much time with other people, so John and Elizabeth were the last two to leave. John meant to go home, he really did. But somehow he kept not-quite-taking that last sip of his beer, and Elizabeth kept laughing at the dumb things he said, and before he realized it, they’d been sitting there for almost an hour.

Being a gentleman and all, he ended up walking her out to her car. The night was chilly, breezy, with a clear sky.

“Thank you. For inviting me.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I needed this.”

“I should be thanking you. We haven’t won in a while.”

She folded her arms as a rougher gust of wind caught them, setting her hair swirling around her shoulders. “I’m glad I could be helpful.”

John chuckled, running a hand through his hair, and he had the sudden, inexplicable urge to lean in a press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, where her lips turned up in a smile.

It hit him like an arrow, clear and shocking, and he froze for a moment. She didn’t seem to notice; she was twisting her keys in her hand, smiling at him. 

He cleared his throat. “See you tomorrow, then?”

She nodded. “Good night.”

John shoved his hands in his pockets, watching her drive off, before slowly walking back to his own car.


	4. Chapter 4

In addition to being head of the math department, John held the dubious honor of coaching South Glen’s quiz bowl team. He didn’t publicize the fact that he’d once served as team captain; those glory days were long past, he reasoned. But his scrappy little team loved the game, and they plugged on, regardless of their less-than-stellar record recently.

He’d assumed administration had forgotten his team existed; Caldwell had no time to micromanage, and it’s not like quiz bowl tournaments sold tickets. Even the chess team got more notice than his kids did.

It was a surprise, then, when he got the email from Caldwell, informing him that his new assistant coach was Elizabeth Weir.

The season started soon, so he stopped in Caldwell’s office between classes to ask about it.

“She’s got a lot of experience with Model U.N. programs,” Caldwell explained, “but since there’s not already a chapter here, she agreed to move over to quiz bowl. Said she’s interested to see how it works. Besides, you’re math and science. It’d be good to have the humanities represented, too.”

“Good point.” John nodded. “Okay. Sounds good to me.”

“Great. Get her up to speed, let me know if there are any issues.” Caldwell paused. “Better yet, just don’t have any issues.”

* * *

That afternoon after classes ended, he found her paging through an old yearbook in a dusty corner of the storage closet. “Hi.”

“John! Hi.” She sneezed. “Sorry.”

He waved a hand. “You’re fine. I’m surprised you can breathe at all in here.”

“Colonel Caldwell asked me to review the quiz bowl materials,” she explained. “I didn’t realize we had so much. Or that it was so -” she wrinkled her nose - “dirty.”

“Knowledge is filthy business.” John leaned over to see what exactly she was reading.

Oh.

Uh oh.

He was about to distract her, but Elizabeth gasped, amazed.

“Is this - _South Glen Academy Quiz Bowl, 1987 State Champions_ -” she looked up, eyes wide. “Is this _you?_ ”

She pointed to the page, and sure enough, right in the center was a skinny kid with a doofy grin, his hair sticking every which way.

John grimaced. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

Elizabeth laughed, smoothing the page down. “You were so cute back then!”

He blinked. “Back then?”

Her mouth opened as she realized just what it was she’d said, and her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. It was adorable.

“You haven’t bought a comb since high school?” she shot back, her face still flushed.

John scoffed. “I’ll have you know that these are cowlicks. It’s genetic.”

Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow at him, something he was starting to find she did to him a lot. “I think it’s just you being you.”

* * *

Elizabeth was a quick study. Not only did she understand the (finicky) buzzer system after a brief explanation, but she’d learned the entire rulebook before walking into the first practice. John was suitably impressed to find her entirely up to speed on the finer points of the scoring system and rules for answering.

She also had a strong linguistic background, and John found himself sitting back, watching her coach the kids on some basic pronunciations. “Look at it this way,” Elizabeth explained. “Even if you have no idea what you’re talking about, you’ll sound like you do. Who knows? You might fool a moderator.”

Evan grinned toothily. “Proper bullshitting.”

“Lorne.” John shot him a look. “ _Language_.”

“Sorry, sir.” The cadet looked entirely un-penitent. “ _Merde_.”

“Uvular _r_ , brighter _e_ vowel,” Elizabeth corrected him. “If you’re going to swear, at least pronounce it like you know how.”

Lorne nodded. “Thanks, Mom.”

Elizabeth fixed him with a look of pure steel, and to his credit, the boy had the awareness to look abashed. John hid a grin behind his hand.

“I mean Dr. Weir.”

Keller, Ford, Cadman and Grodin were openly laughing, and even Elizabeth couldn’t hide her amusement. She turned to John. “How do you put up with this?”

He shrugged. “They’re not _always_ terrible.”

The kids dissolved into giggles again, until Laura waved at her teammates. “It’s okay, guys. At least he’s a cool dad.”

* * *

Practice ended and John and Elizabeth ended up walking out together. It wasn’t until they reached the parking lot, and John opened his car door to toss his bag in the backseat, that she spoke up. “They’re going to keep calling us Mom and Dad, aren’t they?”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I think we’re stuck with that.”

“Right.” She let out something like a laugh. “Well. I suppose there are worse things.”

“At least we’re not Grandma and Grandpa.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That little reference was for you, Polly Lynn. J'ACCUSE.


	5. Chapter 5

Saturday mornings generally saw John out for a run. The campus trails were the best outdoor option nearest his home, and he often found himself running past troops of cadets, jogging neatly in formation.

No students on the trails today, though he’d seen the football team out on the practice fields when he got to school. John put in his earphones and took off, running up the coastal trail.

Six miles later, he came back towards main campus. As he turned the corner and came back to the athletic fields, he saw a figure he recognized: Elizabeth was walking along the trail towards him, and beside her trotted what looked like a big yellow lab, tennis ball in its mouth. In jeans and a faded sweatshirt emblazoned with  _ SGC _ , her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked more casual than he’d ever seen her.

Her eyes brightened as she saw him, and he jogged up to her. “Hey, Elizabeth.”

“Hi.”

“I didn’t know you had a dog.”

She beamed at him, tugging the dog’s leash. “This is Sedge.” 

John crouched down to scratch Sedge’s ears, and the dog immediately dropped the tennis ball, let out an excited bark, and started licking John’s face enthusiastically. Elizabeth laughed. “I think she likes you.”

* * *

“Come on, girl!” John grabbed the tennis ball, flung it, and tore off across the field, Sedge racing along with him, barking excitedly. Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile fondly, watching the two figures scrambling for the ball.

John Sheppard was a puzzle. She knew he’d been in the Air Force; a pilot, if she remembered correctly. He was a damned good math teacher - one of the best in the state, if his students’ AP scores were anything to go by - but she still found herself wondering why he’d become one in the first place.

Elizabeth knew how to read people, and despite his sense of humor and quick, lazy grin, John had a stronger core. There was a steadiness and discipline there beneath the charm, and she got the distinct impression that he was quite a bit more mature - and smarter - than he let on.

He was a good listener, though.

And. Well. He wasn’t hard on the eyes.

Elizabeth flushed, trying to ignore the errant thought. She was usually good at keeping her professional facade firmly in place. But out of office hours, watching John wrestling with Sedge like a kid, she couldn’t help herself. She wasn’t blind.

He came jogging back, Sedge at his heels, and stopped in front of her, grinning. “Your dog is awesome.”

* * *

Tuesday afternoon saw the quiz bowl team in John’s classroom. Most of them, anyway.

Just as John was about to open the practice question book, Keller came racing into the room, dropping her backpack and sliding into her seat. She beamed up at him innocently. “Hello, sir.”

“Running late again, Cadet?”

She blinked. “Not sure what you mean, sir.”

John shrugged. “You know my rules, Cadet. You’re sitting out next match.”

“But sir -”

“But nothing, Keller. Next time, don’t be late.”

She pouted, but gave him no more protest, so John opened up his question book. “Alright, kids. Let’s play.”

* * *

They were deep into the practice hour when John glanced up at the clock and decided it was time to finish up. 

“Okay. Final bonus question: in any order, list four pairs of amicable numbers.” He glanced at his watch, waiting as the second hand ticked around. “And - go.”

Instead of their usual response - huddling quietly, conferring, scribbling on their scratch paper - the students stared up at him blankly, until finally Evan looked around at everyone else and raised his hand. 

“I don’t think any of us knows what those are. Sir.”

Over the laughter, John nodded. “Alright. That’s fair. Doctor Weir? Care to take this one?”

She held up her hands, shaking her head. “Don’t look at me. I deal with words. Numbers are all you.”

Laura gaped. “Wait. There’s something Dr. Weir  _ doesn’t _ know?”

The kids burst out laughing again. John chuckled. “You know, that’s true. I was starting to think you know everything.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Let’s get back to the point, Mr. Sheppard. What are amicable numbers?”

“I’m  _ so _ glad you asked, Doctor.” He picked up a dry erase marker. “Amicable numbers are actually pairs of numbers that go together, where the sum of the one number’s divisors equals the other number. And vice versa.” A few of the kids still looked blank, so he thought for a minute, then started scribbling on the board. “So, for example, 220 and 284. 220 is divisible by 1, 2, 4, 5, 10, 11, 20, 22, 44, 55 and 110. And if you add those numbers together, you get 284. 284 is divisible by  1, 2, 4, 71 and 142. Add ‘em up, they equal 220.”

Ford cocked his head. “Why are they called ‘amicable?’ What’s that?”

“‘Amicable’ means friendly,” Elizabeth piped up. “From Latin.  _ Amicus _ means ‘friend.’”

John nodded. “They’re also called ‘friendly’ sometimes, instead of amicable.”

Jennifer raised her hand, waving enthusiastically until John nodded at her.  “So what do they do? - how do we use them?”

“Nothing.” John grinned. “They’re basically useless.”

“I think they’re - kind of poetic, actually,” Elizabeth murmured. “Even in math, you can have a soulmate.”

Jennifer and Laura  _ awww _ ed, and the boys groaned.

* * *

After practice ended, John and Elizabeth were focused on putting away the buzzer set; they didn’t overhear the girls chatting as they left. 

“D’you ever notice,” Laura murmured as she and Jennifer headed back to the dorms, “Mom and Dad do that thing, where it’s like - they’re talking to other people, but they’re really just talking to each other?”

“Oh my God, I  _ know _ .” Jennifer rolled her eyes. “It’s like every other second. I’ve even heard them finishing each other’s sentences.”

Laura laughed. “They’re  _ so _ married. And they have no idea.”


	6. Chapter 6

After that first Saturday when she’d run into John on her morning walk with Sedge, Elizabeth was only moderately surprised to find the same thing happening again. And again. Even when pretty, colorful autumn turned into the sharp cold of late fall, when she brought Sedge to campus for walks, she’d usually see John running along the same trails. And invariably, Sedge would take off, barking madly and racing towards her new favorite human as soon as she saw him, dragging Elizabeth along. 

It was November, the first day snow was just starting to dust the ground, when Sedge dragged her over to John yet again. 

They ended up on their usual bench after a long, exciting game of fetch, Sedge sprawled out in the grass beside them, panting happily. Elizabeth pulled her knees up to her chest, looking at John beside her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“You were in the Air Force, right?”

He nodded. “Yep. Twelve years.”

“Why did you leave?”

John hesitated, and she hastily backtracked. “I don’t - if I’m overstepping, I’m sorry -”

“No, it’s okay,” he assured her with a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He paused for a moment, staring out at the water, before finally speaking. “I was a pilot. I flew jets for a while, but ended up flying choppers. I got stationed all over the world, and I ended up in Afghanistan, flying search-and-rescue.  

“My first black mark wasn’t so bad. There were three guys stuck after a mission, and I took off to bring ‘em back. I didn’t get approval. But we got them out alive, so the brass let me off with a slap on the wrist. That time.”

A knot twisted in her stomach, but Elizabeth didn’t say anything. 

“It wasn’t long after that - I had a buddy, Lyle, another pilot. He was off on a mission, and his chopper went down. My CO wasn’t going to give me clearance. I took my chopper out anyway.”

“To save your friend?”

He nodded slowly. “I got him out. But he didn’t make it.”

“John - I’m so sorry -”

“I did what I could.” He shook his head. “It just wasn’t enough.”

_ I’m sorry _ was so little, and she didn’t have anything else worth offering, so after a moment, she reached out, tentatively covering his hand with hers. 

She wasn’t sure if it was too much, but he didn’t flinch, even as she could see him working it over in his jaw.

“I knew I was out. The only reason I wasn’t court-martialed was that I never waited for a direct order to disobey.” He chuckled somewhat mirthlessly. “My CO was willing to give me an honorable discharge just to get me the hell out. So I took it.”

He fell silent for a minute, her hand still on his. This was something she’d never seen in him. 

God, and she’d thought  _ her _ past was rocky.

“I ended up here more by accident than anything else,” he finally continued, some of the darkness out of his voice, his eyes a little lighter. “Caldwell’s predecessor was friends with one of my flight instructors, and when he found out what happened, the guy offered me this job. So here I am.” John shook his head. “Never figured I’d be a teacher, that’s for sure.”

Elizabeth nudged him with her shoulder. “You’re a very good teacher.” He scoffed, but she put a hand on his arm. “Really. You have a knack for it. However you ended up here - you have a real gift for what you do.”

John looked uncomfortable - she got the feeling he preferred not to be in the spotlight - but glanced over at her, his eyes bright. 

Like maybe her words meant something to him. 

“Thanks.”

* * *

After Tuesday’s quiz bowl practice ended and John and Elizabeth got the buzzers put away, it seemed only natural to get dinner together. 

She’d teased him about being a creature of habit, so John made it a point to suggest a place they hadn’t been together, a little pub further from campus. It earned him an arch little smile and the eyebrow he’d come to appreciate so much. 

“Well, then. Sounds good.”

* * *

Over sandwiches and surprisingly good craft beers, Elizabeth propped her chin on her hand, considering her dining companion. Even as the schoolyear got busier, John had a lightness about him, a sense of humor that infused his every word. 

And the hair. Really, the hair. How did he get through the military with hair like that?

It took him a moment to notice her gaze, and he paused, glass in hand, tilting his head curiously. “What?”

She wasn’t about to confess to pondering the mysteries of his hair, so she asked the first innocuous question that came to mind. “Did you go to the Air Force Academy?”

He shook his head. “No, actually. I joined the Air Force after college.”

“Where’d you go to college?”

“Stanford.”

Elizabeth blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“How did I not know that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You didn’t ask.”

Elizabeth stared at him, amazed. Stanford.  _ Stanford _ . “And you studied - math, I’m guessing?”

“Applied mathematics. Minored in physics.” He grimaced. “Don’t tell Rodney. He’d never let me hear the end of it.”

She shook her head, mouth open. “John Sheppard, you are a constant surprise.”

He grinned at her cheekily, the sly, easy grin that gave her the most downright unladylike thoughts and made her face flush. “I’d hate to let you get bored.”

* * *

John couldn’t help but notice her stealing a look at him as they walked out to the parking lot. Subtle, just a quick glance under her lashes, but unmistakeable. 

Her car was next to his, and they stopped between them. Snow was floating down, gold under the lamplights, and it caught in her hair, clinging to her dark curls. She looked irresistibly pretty, all bundled up in her navy pea coat, red scarf at her throat.

“You really do know all the best places, don’t you?”

“I like to think so.” 

Elizabeth smiled at him like she knew a secret, something amusing and charming and little bit winsome. 

It probably wasn’t his best idea, but then, it was nowhere near his worst.

He leaned in gently and pressed a kiss to her cheek, lingering just the slightest moment longer than he had to. She took in a sharp breath, and when he pulled back, her eyes fluttered open.

He was an idiot. 

Elizabeth reached for his hand, squeezing it gently, a spot of warmth in the cold winter night. 

“Good night, John.”

* * *

The bell rang for fourth hour. Calculus. John winced, hurrying back to his classroom, carefully not spilling his newly-refilled coffee cup.

“Sorry, sorry, everyone. I’m here.” The students groaned, and he thought he heard someone mutter  _ stupid five-minute rule _ . It sounded a great deal like Aidan Ford. He decided to ignore it for now.

As he went to set down his coffee, John stopped, blinking at the odd sight of flowers on his desk. Actual flowers, clearly picked by hand, tied with a piece of blue ribbon, looking suspiciously like they were “liberated” from the bio department’s greenhouse.

“What the hell?” He looked up. “Cadman? Are these yours?”

“Thought you might like to give them to Dr. Weir, sir.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I hear she likes flowers.”

John narrowed his eyes at her, but Laura Cadman wasn’t afraid of him. He had the sinking feeling that very few students actually were.

“Well, if you’ve got time to be out stealing daisies, you must have finished your homework.” He held out the dry-erase marker. “Let’s see what you have for problem twenty-six.”

The girl bounced up to the board and started writing, and he put the rest of it out of his mind. Cadman was a quirky kid. No reason to make anything of it.


	7. Chapter 7

After months of promising he’d “eventually” stop by and then promptly forgetting about it, Daniel Jackson finally joined Let The Wookiee Win for trivia night. 

John stared in amazement as Daniel and Elizabeth argued in rapidfire German - he assumed it was German - before Daniel finally waved his hands. “All right. All right. I was wrong.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth turned to John. “Our answer is Otto von Bismarck.”

Daniel waved a hand at him. “She’s right. I was thinking of Kaiser Wilhelm. I’m an idiot.”

Bismarck was correct, but Elizabeth was too gracious to gloat.

* * *

After trivia ended - they took second place - Jack stopped by their table. “Condolences, kids. Study harder next time.”

“Thanks,” Rodney sighed. “We tried.”

“Yep. And you failed.” Jack turned to Daniel. “Been a while, Dr. Jackson. You still in this century?”

“I’m relatively sure we all are, Jack.”

Jack stared at him for a long moment before reaching out one hand and slowly, deliberately pushed Daniel’s glasses up his nose.

* * *

The state quiz bowl tournament was a thrilling annual event. It drew the attention of dozens.

After a long, dull bus ride, the South Glen Academy team arrived at the state university campus to find about a hundred teams all around them. 

John’s eyes, though, went straight to their sworn enemies. While every other team wore polos, buttondowns, or rugby shirts, the Iratus Academy wore matching Hawaiian shirts. They cut bold, garish, hibiscus-plastered figures.

John really didn’t like them.

“Those are quite some uniforms,” Elizabeth murmured. “Do they always wear those?”

“Yep.” He shuddered. “I’m glad you had us dress up.”

She’d suggested - and he’d agreed - that they change their look. So instead of their usual boring grey polo shirts, the South Glen cadets were sharp and crisp in full dress uniform, from ties and perfectly-pressed trousers to shined shoes and carefully-tilted caps.

“Purely psychological,” Elizabeth had explained to the team last week. “Before the match even starts, you’ve established dominance. It’s a non-verbal signal that automatically sets you up as the standard to beat, and given that everyone’s used to seeing you in those polos, it’ll surprise them. Besides. We want you to look good.”

The kids had latched onto the idea with gusto. John hadn’t mentioned to Elizabeth that they’d started calling it Psychological Weirfare. 

* * *

After the first three rounds, South Glen was undefeated. Iratus was undefeated in their own bracket, and if all went as hoped, John knew, they’d be facing each other the next day.

The students were wiped out after their long day - they’d left South Glen at 5 in the morning - and there was no arguing when they arrived at the hotel and John informed them that lights out was in half an hour.

* * *

Once the students were checked in and accounted for, John headed down to the hotel bar. Elizabeth was already there, settled on a soft couch in the corner, nursing a glass of red wine.

After stopping at the bar, John brought his scotch over to join her. “The kids are all in their rooms. We’re fine.” He set his glass on the table in front of them and stretched his arm across the back of the couch. “What a day.”

“The Iratus Academy’s good,” she mused. “But realistically, we have a shot.”

“Yep. Lorne’s a good captain. He really knows when to kill a bonus.” John shook his head, grinning. “Do you ever stop and ask yourself just how you got involved with something this geeky?”

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at him. “You realize you’re talking to a founding member of her own high school chess team?”

“ _ Chess _ team?”

She nodded. “Guilty.”

He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “You’re a hopeless nerd.”

“You’re just as hopeless,” she teased, her eyes dancing. “Or you wouldn’t be coaching this ragtag little band.”

Elizabeth stretched her arms above her head, leaning back against the soft cushions of the couch, and John tried very hard not to stare at the line of her throat, the curves of her body under the soft blouse. 

He’d gotten really, really good at compartmentalizing. But he wasn’t blind, and she was, in fact, distractingly pretty. And he could usually deal with it, no problem. But here in the soft, warm lights, with the closeness and her smile and the beginnings of some liquid courage in him, John spent a good fifteen seconds just wondering if she was a good kisser. And trying to decide if he could find out.

He found himself wanting to know everything about her, even the stupid things. Not that kissing was stupid. 

She had a pensive look on her face, and he didn’t know what she was thinking about. She got that way sometimes, and John wondered just how much was crammed into that mind of hers. Just how far her brain went.

Normally, he didn’t pry, as much as he wanted to know about her personal life. But she’d asked him about the Air Force, so he finally decided, well, the worst she could say was  _ I don’t want to talk about it _ . “Can I ask you something?”

She sipped her wine delicately. “Of course.”

“Was there something else that happened at your old job? The way you left - it just - kind of seemed like it was personal.”

Elizabeth looked down at her wineglass, and for a second he wondered if he’d overstepped.

“You’re right,” she said quietly, more to her wine than to him. “It did get personal.”

“What happened?” 

She leaned her chin on her hand, absently swirling her drink in its glass. “Simon - President Simon Wallace - he and I were dating. In fact, we were talking about getting married.”

Something hit John in the pit of his stomach, a swift punch in the gut that had nothing to do with the half-finished drink in front of him. 

“When the college’s finances went south, it got...strained. Something like that - you can’t help but take it home at night, and the fights we had -” she sighed. “We both took it too personally. I won’t pretend it was all him, because it wasn’t. The worse it got at work, the worse it got for us. And it only got more and more bitter.”

“You said -” he ventured - “you said you were against one of his decisions, right?”

She nodded. “The trustees voted in my favor about budget cuts. That was the final straw. The college needed someone high-profile enough to be a lightning rod - we’d all known it for a while - and Simon made it very clear to me after the board of trustees vote that either I needed to leave, or he did. And he wasn’t going to.”

“That’s bullshit.” Indignation flared in his veins, a stupid, futile response to some asshole John didn’t even know who was willing to scapegoat Elizabeth to save his own job. “I can’t believe he’d do that to you.”

Her eyes warmed, a teasing smile on her lips. “John Sheppard, are you defending my honor?”

He had the strongest urge to chase the little smile off her lips with his, catch her bottom lip between his teeth, taste that laughter on her mouth until he had enough. 

He tried to ignore it, because if he were smart, he’d walk away, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave right now. “I just - that sounds terrible.”

“It was.”

There was a darkness on her face, something he couldn’t stand to see, and John wished there were something, anything he could do. “Do you regret it?”

She shook her head slowly. “Not - entirely. I’m sorry it was so ugly, but I did my job. There was no happy solution, you know? There was no way to keep the college open and still keep everyone happy. I don’t think Simon saw that, and that’s why we couldn’t agree. And then we couldn’t talk. And then - we couldn’t be around each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

Elizabeth shrugged, tracing a finger around the edge of her glass “To be honest, I’m not. At least I found out the truth. Just imagine if we’d gotten married,  _ then _ gone through all that.” 

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Besides.” Her voice was very, very soft. “I’m a lot happier here.”

His whole body was suddenly, hotly aware of just how close together they’d drifted. She was so close, just inches away, and she smelled good, some kind of faint perfume winding around him like silk, and all he had to do was lean into her and let it happen. 

Elizabeth looked up at him, her eyes dark and liquid, and he could swear her gaze flicked down to his mouth. Her cheeks were flushed, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just the wine. 

There was a jarring outburst of loud laughter from a table somewhere nearby. John flinched, and he saw Elizabeth take a deep breath, her eyes darting around. The voices died down quickly, but the mood was broken, and the distance between them suddenly felt like a mile.

She sat up straight, smoothing her hands on her skirt. “I should go. It’s late.”

He swallowed hard. “Elizabeth -”

But the moment was gone; she was already halfway out of the bar, and when she glanced back, her eyes didn’t quite make it to his. “Good night, John.”

* * *

Elizabeth pushed the elevator button for her floor and folded her arms, staring fixedly at the geometric pattern on the carpet as she tried to calm her racing heart.

She’d seen it on John’s face. He was about to kiss her.

It was one thing being attracted to a co-worker; it happened, and it wasn’t the end of the world. She was an adult. But knowing that the attraction wasn’t just one-sided...that was a different situation.

After the mess with Simon, she’d told herself she wasn’t going to get involved with someone at work again. Their relationship hadn’t been common knowledge at St. George, thankfully - both she and Simon were private people, and they’d kept it to themselves - but that hadn’t stopped the bitterness from overwhelming whatever happiness they might have had.

But later, as she curled up in bed and shut her eyes, Elizabeth couldn’t help but think it might not be such a bad thing. 


	8. Chapter 8

After a night of fitful sleep, John decided, mid-shower, that regardless of what had (almost) happened last night, everything was going to be fine. 

After all, they were both adults. Even if he didn’t feel like it most of the time.

When Elizabeth appeared in the lobby that morning with the last few kids to head to campus, he held his breath, but she smiled at him, a little shy, and he felt some of the tension in his chest ease a bit.

_ We’re fine _ .

* * *

The final round was held in a lecture hall in the center of campus. John was pleasantly surprised to see hundreds of people in the seats; almost every team who’d come to compete had come to watch the championship round.

He was also pleasantly surprised to see the students had not only found, but also used, the irons in their rooms. Everyone’s uniform was crisp, pressed, and pristine, even more so than yesterday.

Almost  _ too _ pristine. John blinked. “Ford, is your top button buttoned?”

Aidan grinned. “Yes, sir. Something wrong, sir?”

“No, no. I just - didn’t think you knew you had one.”

“It’s a brave new world, sir.”

After shaking hands with the moderators and the Iratus coaches, John gathered the kids around. “All right. This is it. It all comes down to this match.” He considered inserting a few lines from  _ Independence Day _ , but figured maybe Bill Pullman could keep the “not going quietly into the night” speech. “You guys have done incredibly well. Just play sharp, all right?”

The team chorused  _ Yes, sir _ , and he glanced back to where Elizabeth was leaning on a desk, watching quietly. “Dr. Weir? Pep talk? You’re better at this than I am.”

He hoped she’d take it as the olive branch it was -  _ I’m sorry if I messed everything up _ \- and was relieved to see her smile. She touched his arm gently as she came to stand beside him, and the brief contact sent heat through his body.

“Thank you, Coach Sheppard.” He smiled at that, even as Elizabeth turned to face the team. “You want to win, right?” The students nodded. “You know how. Every single one of you knows what to do. So show us your best.” Her lips quirked. “It’s time for real, unflinching Weirfare.”

The kids blinked at her, stunned, and she smiled archily. “You really thought I didn’t know?”

Lorne cleared his throat. “Apparently we were wrong about that.”

“Well, in that case.” She straightened, folding her arms. “Time for a scorched earth policy, ladies and gentlemen. Take no prisoners.”

* * *

The trophy was four feet tall.

It was the first time South Glen had won state since the 1990’s, and the kids were beside themselves. The minute the moderator read out the final scores - Iratus Academy 275, South Glen Academy 290 - the entire auditorium had erupted in cheers.

Apparently no one liked the Hawaiian shirts.

As she watched the kids hug each other, John reached over to grip her hand, and Elizabeth caught her breath, squeezing his palm tightly. “Congratulations, Coach.”

His grin was infectious. “Right back at you, Assistant Coach.”

* * *

Before the long drive back to campus, they found a pizza place near the university, and after letting them change out of their uniforms, they stopped for dinner. In the back room, they chattered loudly over their food.

“Hey, guys. Guys.” Lorne waved his hand. “I would like to make a toast.”

John groaned.

“First of all,” Evan continued, ignoring him, “to me, because I’m awesome.” There was a loud chorus of boos, and Ford threw a packet of sweetener at him. “Second, to Dad -” he raised his glass of Sprite at John - “for always telling us to - believe in - I don’t know, whatever. 

“And thirdly, to Mom.” He gestured to Elizabeth, who had the good grace to look amused. “Mom, who taught us important things like Psychological Weirfare.”

“To Mom and Dad,” Cadman piped up. “Long may they reign.”

“Mom and Dad!”

The students clinked their soda glasses, and John’s eyes met Elizabeth’s across the table. She gave him that little smile, the affectionate, secretive one he’d seen before, and whatever he’d been worrying about after their near miss last night was somewhat eased.

Maybe she just wasn’t quite ready to kiss him in a hotel bar, but her eyes were soft and the fondness in her smile was unmistakeable. 

After a leisurely dinner, John glanced at his watch. Time to get back to South Glen. “All right, kids. Back to the bus. We leave in ten minutes.”

Maybe it was just his imagination, but as Elizabeth walked past him through the door, it felt like her hand brushed against his.

* * *

By the time they got back to campus, it was almost two in the morning, and John looked back to find most of the kids still awake, staring at their phones or chatting. Hardly surprising. They’d just won state; they seemed pretty wired, and he felt that way himself.

Elizabeth was asleep, though. She was curled up sideways in her seat, her cheek pillowed against one hand, knees pulled up to her chest, and she was so intensely adorable that he couldn’t stop looking at her. It felt intimate, watching her sleep, and he couldn’t help but -

It occurred to him that it was creepy, and he cleared his throat. “Elizabeth? Elizabeth. We’re here.”

Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and as they slowly fixed on him, a soft, faint blush spread over her cheeks. “Oh,” she murmured, unfolding her legs, sitting up. “That was fast.”

“You slept through most of it.” Not that he was watching or anything. 

“Mmm.” Elizabeth rubbed her eyes. “All right. I’m awake.”

The kids filed off the bus, back towards the dorms, leaving John, Elizabeth, and a really big trophy.

“Are you taking that home?” she asked, shouldering her overnight bag. “It’d make a lovely centerpiece.”

John chuckled. “Nah. I’m gonna go put it in the lounge for now.” He paused. “Why don’t you head home? No reason you need to stay, I can carry it. And you look kind of dead on your feet.”

She gave a rueful laugh. “Much as I hate to admit it, that’s about how I feel.” 

“So go on.” 

“Right.” 

Elizabeth turned as if to go, but after a moment’s hesitation, she turned back. Before he realized what was happening, she dropped her bag, threw her arms around him, and hugged him tightly.

He wasn’t expecting it, but John hugged her back, burying his face in her hair. She even smelled good. And as slim as she was, she was soft, her body gentle and comfortable and too many things he probably shouldn’t be thinking about a woman who hadn’t  _ quite  _ kissed him, as close as it was.

The hug lasted just a few seconds too long to be completely innocent, and just as he was thinking about the warmth of her breath on his neck and just how close her mouth was, she slowly pulled back, squeezing his arm gently.

“Great work, John.” 

“You too.” John picked up the trophy. “Get some rest. I’ll see you on Monday.” 


	9. Chapter 9

Ronon insisted the he and John should get food to celebrate ‘whatever you nerds did to win something for once.’ Accordingly, they ended up at Professor Jack’s.

“Congrats on the trophy, man,” Ronon told him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “It’s about damn time.” 

“Thanks.” John waved a hand dismissively. “I can’t take credit. The kids did the real work. And Elizabeth was great. I pretty much just sat back and watched.”

“Huh.” Ronon’s face didn’t flinch, but John knew him well enough to decode the syllable.

“What?”

“Nothing, man.” Ronon drained his beer. “So she’s ‘Elizabeth’ now?”

“Shut up.”

* * *

Caldwell poked his head into the lounge Monday morning to tell John congratulations. “Good work, Sheppard. Nice to kick Iratus’s ass for once.”

“Thank you, sir,” John replied, instinctively standing up a little straighter. He wasn’t Air Force anymore, but for some reason, Caldwell still inspired military posture. “The students really pulled through. And honestly, Dr. Weir was a huge help. It was good to have her working with them.”

“Right.” Caldwell nodded. “Yes. She was very complimentary of you, too.”

“Oh.” John wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. 

“Well. Okay then.” Caldwell tapped the doorframe. “Good work.”

* * *

As it turned out, John’s classroom was a popular place that day. Who knew so many people were aware the quiz bowl team even existed?

Teyla, ever gracious, stopped in when she had a chance. Even Rodney showed up between John’s geometry and calculus classes. 

“Well, well. Nice to have you in the math department, Rodney,” John drawled. “What brings you by?”

“I - wanted to say - good work.” Rodney stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

“For what?”

That earned him a baleful look. “You know for what. The trophy’s pretty hard to miss.”

“That’s the idea.” But really, for Rodney, this counted as downright pleasant. “Well, thanks, Rodney. Good to know the quiz bowl team can count on your unwavering love.” 

Rodney stared at him; John could almost hear the litany of things running through his mind, none of which were appropriate for school hours. 

Finally, Rodney just shook his head. “Whatever. Congratulations.” 

John mock-saluted, and Rodney stalked off.

* * *

Elizabeth found her office a revolving door of congratulations; it seemed like every administrator in the hallway stopped in to congratulate the scrappy little quiz bowl team. She’d never coached anything before, outside of a brief stint helping a local high school model U.N. event when she was in college. This was nice.

The one person whose absence was noticed, though, was her co-coach.

It really wasn’t terribly surprising - it was a regular schoolday, and John had classes to teach - but it gave her a chance to think, to consider her options. After all, she’d hugged him on Saturday night and the world didn’t end.

Of all the surprises, though, it was Ronon Dex, the least talkative person at South Glen, who gave her the perspective she needed to make a decision.

He tapped on her door not long before lunch. “Dr. Weir?”

“Hello, Ronon.” She’d asked him several times to call her Elizabeth. He’d seemed placidly content to ignore it. It had taken her a while to accept the fact that the athletic director simply had his habits, and they didn’t change, no matter how many trivia rounds they played at Professor Jack’s together. “Can I help you?” 

“Just wanted to say congratulations,” he told her, folding his arms. “I hear you guys kicked ass.”

“Well, thank you.”

It seemed like that was all Ronon had to say - it was about normal for him - and Elizabeth was ready to go back to her email, but he was hovering in her doorway. “Was there something else?”

He paused, thinking for a long moment before he turned back to her. “He likes you. A lot.”

Her mouth opened, but she had no idea how to respond to that.

Ronon was gone before she could find an answer.

* * *

John’s prep period was sixth hour, and as usual, he sat at his desk, paging through the calculus textbook. Tomorrow would be an exciting day of integrals.

A knock at the door caught his attention, and he looked up to find Elizabeth leaning in. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he said, shutting the book. “You need something?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

He wracked his brain, trying to remember if he had anything planned. “Ah - I don’t think so. Why?”

“Would you like to have dinner? - at my place?”

Her tone was deliberately light, but he saw the invitation for what it was: a second chance.  _ If you want. If you’re interested. _

And if, after the shitstorm she’d endured at St. George, she was still willing to give him a shot…

“Will Sedge be there?”

It got the smile he was looking for, the bright smile that lit up her whole face and made her eyes dance. Elizabeth could read his subtext, too. 

_ I’m all in _ .

“Of course she will.” She folded her arms. “Who else is going to chaperone?”

“We need a chaperone?”

Maybe it was too forward, but Elizabeth didn’t seem to mind; a downright mischievous look flashed in her eyes. 

“I guess we’ll find out.”


	10. Chapter 10

“I think that’s all I have,” Caldwell said, glancing through his notes. “The budget looks good. And Grodin said something about a new computer program for the industrial technology department?”

She nodded. “Peter was hoping to get better software, so I suggested he check educational waivers for licenses. Turns out he got an entire classroom licensed for free.”

“Damn,” Steven whistled. “Well played, Doctor.”

Elizabeth smiled. "There's always a way."

She’d been warned about him before coming to South Glen. Steven Caldwell could be a bit brusque at times, and occasionally he got short with people who didn’t respond to his requests with the precision and efficiency of a military unit, but all in all, he was a good administrator who valued good work. It wasn’t his fault that bureaucracies were nightmares to work with. He just took some getting used to.

“All right. The numbers look good.” The colonel shut his folder and tucked his pen back into his pocket. “Thanks.”

“You're perfectly welcome.”

He glanced at his watch. “Oh, I didn’t realize we’d gone so late. Would you like to get dinner?”

She smiled gently. “Actually, I have plans. Thank you, though.”

“Of course.” He stood, pushing his chair back as he collected his papers. “See you tomorrow, Elizabeth.”

“Good night, Steven.”

It wasn’t until she was halfway home, turning into her neighborhood, that it occurred to her: Steven Caldwell sort of just asked her out.

* * *

Elizabeth had just started finished setting out clean plates in the dining room when her doorbell rang, and Sedge tore past her, barking. She smiled wryly, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. Dogs: pleasantly straightforward.

She opened the door to find John in jeans and a slightly-rumpled blue buttondown, a sheaf of flowers in one hand. “Hey. I like your house.”

“Thanks.” She laughed, holding the door open. “Please, come in. Sorry if Sedge is a little excited.”

“It’s okay. I’m pretty exciting.”

“Sure you are,” Elizabeth assured him, dragging the dog back so she could shut the door behind John. “Sedge,  _ down _ .”

“These are for you,” John announced, brandishing his bouquet proudly. It was lovely, pink roses with red tips and clusters of little white blossoms scattered across it like lace. “I asked the girl at the store what to pick, so if you don’t like them, it’s not my fault.”

He grinned at her, cheeky as ever, and without taking another moment to think about it, she leaned in and kissed him.  

It was soft, tender, and so very natural that it felt as easy as breathing, and she had to wonder why on earth they’d never kissed before. 

Elizabeth normally wore heels to work; without the added height, John was quite a bit taller than she was. She had to stand on her toes to reach his mouth, and as much as she relished the authority at work, this was new, this odd, intriguing feeling of being small and delicate and  _ feminine _ .

She finally pulled away, but his hand lingered on her cheek, and he murmured in her ear. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?”

Elizabeth stole one more kiss, light and teasing.

“Almost as long as I have.”


	11. Chapter 11

After dinner, wine, and two hours sitting on the couch, talking, Elizabeth looked up at the clock to see that it was nearing midnight.

"Oh, jeez." John glanced at his watch. "I didn't even realize."

She couldn't help but feel guilty. Mornings started early at school, and even she, without classes to teach, usually tried to get to bed early. "Sorry."

"No, no." He grinned at her. "I don't mind."

She followed him to the front door, watching as he slowly pulled out his keys, as though he was looking for an excuse to stay.

"Thanks for dinner," he said, grinning at her. "This was nice."

"Thank you for the flowers."

He kissed her goodnight, long and slow, cradling her face in his hands.

The flush of physical attraction caught her, sudden and heady and breathtaking. John kissed her thoroughly, deliberately, with the certainty of a man who knew exactly what he was looking for.

"Goodnight," she whispered into his mouth, stealing one more kiss.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and finally pulled himself away. "Goodnight, Elizabeth."

* * *

"Good morning, Dr. Weir."

Elizabeth looked up from her computer to find John leaning in her doorway, grinning at her.

"Good morning, Mr. Sheppard."

His grin widened, and she felt a blush spreading over her face. She'd never realized just how mischievous his smile was.

Well. Maybe she had.

"Was there something you needed?"

He shrugged. "Nope. Just wanted to say hello."

She had a schedule full of meetings today, spreadsheets full of budget projections and departmental reports enough to cross her eyes, but despite it all, Elizabeth felt herself smiling back at him.

"Very sweet of you."

"Mmhmm. And for the record, I had a really good time last night."

Low-key as it was - dinner and wine and a long, meandering conversation about stupid mundane things that didn't matter - it was probably the most at ease, the most quietly, intensely happy, she'd felt in a long, long time.

"So did I."

He shoved his hands in his pockets sheepishly. He looked like nothing so much as the boy next door, come to talk to the girl he liked.

He might have been a former Air Force pilot with a keen grasp of advanced mathematics, but right now, he just looked adorable.

* * *

Despite the season having ended, the quiz bowl team still piled into John's classroom on Tuesdays after school. He'd gotten used to it; Tuesday afternoons meant no grading until he got home.

To their credit, today the kids had originally pulled out books and started working through a trig proof together. Conversation had drifted, though, and no one had touched a pencil in almost half an hour.

John leaned on the edge of his desk; Elizabeth was in his chair, watching in amusement. Even though there was rarely anything for her to do - occasionally someone would ask her questions about French or German homework, or something from an English class - she still joined them on Tuesday afternoons.

He suspected it was more a break from the endless budget documents and meetings she dealt with than anything, although after dinner last night, he had the sneaking suspicion she just wanted to spend more time with him.

That might have been wishful thinking, but he decided to stick with it.

"Coach? Coach, I have a question."

He nodded. "What is it, Cadman?"

"Are you and Dr. Weir dating?"

He glanced over at Elizabeth reflexively, but it was a relief to see her poker face firmly in place. "That's not an appropriate question, Laura. For either Mr. Sheppard or me."

"The 'Mom and Dad' thing is fine," he added, folding his arms. "It's kind of endearing. But teachers' personal lives - and administrators' - are off-limits."

Conversation meandered again, and eventually John stole another look at Elizabeth. She smiled serenely as the kids lost interest in their personal lives, and for just a moment, she glanced back at him.

It was just half a second, and she looked away, but in that fraction of a moment, he knew, with total certainty, that this was something real. Something worth hanging on to.

Something he hadn't expected.

* * *

It wasn't until later, when John and Elizabeth were settled on his couch, watching  _GalaxyQuest_ , that she poked him in the side. "Do you think they know?"

"Hmm?"

"About us," she clarified. "Laura. Do you think they know? - or was she just fishing?"

He shrugged. "I think she's a teenage girl. She sees what she wants to see."

"Right." Elizabeth was curled up against him, and he felt the rustle of her hair against his chest as she nodded. "That makes sense."

"Besides, Laura's got the attention span of a squirrel. I'd say we're safe."

She chuckled against him, running a hand over his chest. "You're probably right. But there's one problem."

"What's that?"

She smiled up at him ruefully. "We didn't say 'no.'"


End file.
